


Different Lives

by AstroGirl



Category: Farscape
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-05
Updated: 2009-12-05
Packaged: 2017-10-04 04:44:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstroGirl/pseuds/AstroGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>D'Argo's thoughts before his first battle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Different Lives

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to kalypso_v for the beta, even if I didn't manage to fit in her suggestion about the weather.

It's the smells that make the difference. Strange plants, unknown animals. Every breath reminds him how very far he is from home. Even the dirt smells different. And the _people_... Most of the village's inhabitants have hidden or fled, anticipating their enemy's attack, but the scent of them lingers. D'Argo has never smelled so many aliens in one place before.

Of course, from this planet's perspective, _he_ is the alien. It's a strange thought, and he tries not to dwell on it. He's a soldier now, after all, and useless philosophical musings will only distract a soldier from his duty, or so he's been told. All he needs to know is that these people are the Luxans' allies and that his people have promised them help.

Still, the desire to learn more of this world he's sworn to protect is inescapable, and in the pre-battle hush he pauses to look around. The normality of the place surprises him. Small, neat houses that, save for their low roofs and narrow doorways, might not be entirely out of place on the Eastern Continent at home. Wide, pleasant streets, cobbled like the historical sections of Kelandak City, but in colors he's not sure he's ever seen before. And everywhere gardens that, despite their alien smell, remind him of his mother's vegetable patch at home. Soldiers aren't supposed to feel homesickness any more than they're meant to entertain philosophical thoughts... or at least they're not supposed to admit it if they do. Nevertheless, something very much like homesickness clutches abruptly at his hearts. He wants to be back in his mother's garden, surrounded by familiar smells. He wants to be in the presence of things he's helped to make grow, not here in this strange place, where he's about to be asked to make people die.

He shakes his head, takes a breath, and tries to focus on his surroundings, his mind seeking clarity in the lush greens and blues of the local plants. He imagines alien mothers in these gardens digging alien soil, alien children by their sides, and a fierce sort of pride fills him. _This_ is why he is here. This is what he is here to protect.

Suddenly, a runner appears, bearing an intelligence report: the enemy are approaching. The kleeva quickly gathers the unit into defense formation and orders a last-microt weapons check. D'Argo dutifully inspects his pistol, but he has no intention of using it. The weight of his grandfather's qualta blade lies heavy on his back, and the weight of his family's history lies with it. He will bear it proudly in battle today, its first taste of combat in many cycles, and he will bring honor to his family, his unit, his world, himself. Someday, he is certain, they will write songs about him, if not for the defense of this village, then for some equally noble deed. And, when he is old, he thinks, he will sit in a garden with his children and grandchildren beside him, rich Luxan soil trickling through his fingers, and he will tell them the story of this day, and of how it all began.


End file.
